It was a bright and humid morning that day, with a haze that hung in the streets and a weight in the air that promised it was going to be sweltering, come noon. It was during this morning that Ulthanon found himself in the Pig & Whistle, mostly alone. The Langstons weren't up yet, and neither were any of their usual odd-hours customers; even Aedis and Brom weren't bold enough to make their perpetual bar crawl in weather like this.He drummed his fingers across the tabletop, casting a glance at his gnomebox to check the time. 8:32 in the morning.

Bored.

The overwhelming majority of the Riders had gone on an important business run- if he remembered correctly, there was a particular piece of Titancraft machinery that a client had wanted, and so the higher-ups had organized a two-day expedition in order to break into Ulduar and properly disconnect the piece from its housing; apparently the process was complicated enough that it would take all of two days to complete. Ulthanon, however, found himself benched; the short-straw that was required to stay behind and make sure nobody came in and got too rowdy.

He wasn't the only one, though- Delion was on Pig Duty with him, though he probably would have stayed behind anyhow. Ulth wasn't sure where he was but he was starting to consider waking him up for entertainment.

Delion awoke early as always. He took up his brush with the fine talbuk hair bristles, and began loosening the little snags caused by his pillow during the night. He dressed, pulling on clean pressed socks and undergarments. Light beige pants and a long white undershirt, both with numerous buttons. Simple grey leather shoes, he laced up to his ankles. He threaded his arms through the long sleeves of his robe, buttoning it up from his ankles all the way to his chin. Finally presentable for the day, he made his way to the kitchen.

He made himself a lovely cup of tea, the one with the rose aroma, in his favourite blue porcelain cup. Folding the morning paper beneath his arm, Delion stepped out into the bright daylight, escaping the presence of his apprentice before he had a chance to wake. It wasn't too long a walk to the 'Whistle, but by the time he arrived Delion was considering the purchase of a parasol to guard against the sun.

Nodding a brief greeting and a quiet 'good morning', he sat down opposite the scruffy unwashed beast and his dog. Ulthanon looked horridly bored, and perhaps even shared the little mote of rejection at being left behind. Not that Delion wanted to go on that ridiculous endeavor to Ulduar, exactly, but it did ruffle a feather or two not to be included.

"Well. At least it will be a little quiet this weekend."

"Excuse me?" A somewhat well-to-do man poked his head into the Pig. "I was told the Wildfire Riders were able to take professional care of things, and that I might find them here?"

To a weary, nervous onlooker, the men looked as much the same as they did different. When your primary trade lay with humans and maybe the occasional dwarf, there was little shame in the honest truth of "Well they all look the same to me." Tall, long-eared, blue-hued and white-haired. One was clearly a ragamuffin and the other some sort of aristocrat. Maybe they were already doing business.

"Excuse me, I was hoping to find -- "

"Yeah, the Riders, welcome." The scruffy one kicked a chair out, and the great grey pile of fur whose nose it slid past didn't so much as flinch. "Pull up a chair, friend, the party's only starting."

He slipped into it gingerly, having walked the very long way around the table to avoid stepping on a tail and perhaps losing a foot below the ankle in the process. "That's very generous, thank you, but I'm not here for a party. I was actually hoping to do a bit of business. If I'm interrupting..."

Judging by the way both men immediately sat upright, no, he wasn't interrupting in the least. "We might be able to fit you somewhere into our busy schedule," the primped one airily offered.

The bar's other tables sat in silent testament to how very desperately not busy things were. Beneath a stairwell, a cricket chirped. "Balls to that," snapped the scruffy one over his companion's silent disdain at having a good game of hard-to-get ruined. "What do you need done."

"Ah, yes." Well then, right to business. Their now-customer fidgeted, removing his hat and holding it by its fine felt brim. "I have a...problem. Of sorts. That I need taken care of. And I've heard that you're the best. I'm a man of some great influence; I'm prepared to pay, whatever the cost may be. Both for the work, and that it's kept quiet."

They had almost shooed the man away in their rush to get ready for the job. The agreement was that they'd be ready within the hour, he just had to meet them back at the Pig with the task. They promised the matter would be handled professionally, with discretion and tact.

Ulthanon and Delion sat together, a pile of papers before each of them. Opposite on the other side of the table were the only two people even remotely able to be considered for the job, who hadn't run off to Ulduar.

Delion eyed his much, much larger sheaf of parchments before him. Official documents festooned with stamps of authority made up an entire half of the stack, some granting rights, many more warrants for arrest - although, detailing very strongly the candidate's abilities in the field....leadership skills, works well when left alone, not afraid to point out shortcomings in team members for the benefit of improving...It was quite the resume.

Delion glanced to Ulthanon for his not-so-subtle rejection of the applicant, and tried not to show his relief.

The elder of the two kal'dorei was mulling over his own papers. Paper, as it were. A rough, browning, crumpled page was flattened out on the table. Upon it was scrawled in the applicant's neatest handwriting: ...Well, nothing at all, actually. There was a distinct lack of words, which was why Ulthanon had chosen this one to peruse. The little stick figures weren't TOO bad to look at, really, but credit must be given to the exuberance of the smiling face in the sun that shone so brightly over the scene.

They shared another look. Was this really the only pick of mercenaries they had at their disposal? Seriously?

Delion steeled himself to hand out rejection. "I'm afraid you're a little overqualified for what we're looking for, Laurus."

Ulthanon, brief as he needed to be, shot a hand over the table to the short figure opposite him. "Y'hired. Just."

"Damn right I am!" Fells was matter-of-fact, leaving no arguement to her husband.

In an hour, when they had been able to get rid of Laurus and the man had returned, the three made their best attempt to look as nonchalant as possible. They sat around the main table downstairs: Ulthanon at the head seat nearest the bar, Ghost lounging by his side and feet kicked up onto the table, a cigarette of Mountain Silversage and Peacebloom hanging from between his teeth; Delion, at his right, sitting stock upright with one hand folded neatly over the other in front of him; Fells at his left, proudly clutching her drawing. It had been a precarious situation in the moments before the man arrived- in an argument over who got to sit at the head of the table a small scuffle had broken out between Fells and Ulthanon, leaving both slightly more tussled looking than usual. Ghost, who had been standing watch at the door, alerted them to the man's approach, and they both immediately tried to sit in the same chair. Ulthanon, behind heavier, pushed the smaller woman out and onto the floor, leaving the better Drachmas to take an indignant seat along the long side of the table.

"Hello?" The man said as he poked his head in again, "Is everything alright? I heard some noise from outsi-""Noise?" Ulthanon interrupted, looking between his compatriots, "You two hear any noise?"The both shook their heads, and the man shrugged his acceptance of this. Fells quietly booted the tracker under the table, but Ulth kept smiling through his desire to cringe. "So. What can we do for you, mister...?"

"Spotswood," he answered anxiously as he lowered his corpulent bulk into a chair. It creaked in protest beneath him. The pair had been joined by some a third; it set him on edge. These Riders had a reputation. A half-drunk man, a fop and a kid didn't live up to it. They had to be hiding the real muscle elsewhere, and he never let his guard down when he knew someone had a concealed weapon ready to spring. "I brought the money."

"Then let's do business." He pushed a heavy, clinking bag halfway across the table, and Ulthanon swept it the rest of the way into Delion's waiting hands. "Now then, details." With a heavy fee in their grasp Ulthanon relaxed (if it was possible for him to do, moreso).

Their client cleared his throat and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. "Let's, please." The Pig's entries stood, gaping and silent. If only they'd had doors. Doors he could lock and bar. Anything to keep her from walking in, overhearing. "Time is of the utmost importance. I need to drop her off as soon as possible."

"Her?" the kid queried. His voice was oddly pitched...oh Light, when it uncrossed its arms it was a girl. Oops.

"Ah, yes. She's young..." Shame marked his features for a passing moment. "Very. I need someone who can handle what needs to be done." He didn't like the unspoken conversation being ha between the three, but he needn't have worried. "I can pay more."

"Settles it," the leader -- or at least, the not-poof and not-boygirlthing -- declared. To his left, the girl glared at him. He seemed to pay it no mind. "Bring her in. We'll do what needs doin'."

When he left, the Pig was several thousand crowns richer, and its skeleton crew in just a smidge over their heads.

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"We ain't."

"Shut up, okay? Just give me a second to -- "

"We ain't doin' it."

"She's right, Ulthanon. This goes even a bit past our own boundaries. We're lawless, but we're not this terrible."

"Look, do you want to recount that? This is the biggest haul we've had in a month, easy. And with just the three of us -- "

"Alright already!" Ulthanon hauled his feet off the table, adjusting himself in his seat and putting the last of his cigarette out on the edge of the table. "Alright. We've done harder against fiercer. This couldn't possibly take more'n a few hours-"

"Y'mean 'five minutes'?" Fells mocked under her breath.

"-AND then we'll be done," Ulth finished. "Imagine their faces when they come back and find out we've made twice what they did in a fraction of the time! It'll be promotions all around."

Delion adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, nodding a begrudging ascent to his stubble-faced compatriot. "Between the three of us," he intoned, motioning to himself, Fells, and Ghost, "We should be able to handle whatever this girl has in store for us."